


The Taverns of Little Herdaz

by she_is_rysn



Series: A Balcony in Urithiru [6]
Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Book 03: Oathbringer Spoilers, Gen, Little Herdaz, The Limping Chull, The Tipsy Cousin, there is finally some kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 09:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20579966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_is_rysn/pseuds/she_is_rysn
Summary: Kaladin heals from a punch in the face, Adolin doesn't heal from punching him but does get a drink, Shallan's night out with Palona includes a LOT of wine.





	1. A Stupid Thing To Have Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adolin is in fact one of those punchy guys.

Adolin’s fist connected exactly where he hoped it would, surprising given how dark it was on the balcony. Bridgeboy had gone a little poetic at the end, letting his guard down just long enough for the blow to land undeflected. 

Adolin heard the crunch of cartilage as his knuckles connected with Kaladin’s nose, felt the bristle of his eyebrow on the back of his finger. Every joint in Adolin’s arm rang with the impact, and he felt his hand swelling almost instantly. 

The pain reminded Adolin that all Kaladin had to do was suck in some stormlight to get back to normal, while he would have to either take several days to heal like a normal person or sheepishly go to Renarin. Storms, what would he even say to Renarin? 

Every choice was bad. What a stupid thing to have done. 

Kalidin stumbled back, one hand covering his nose, and Adolin started to just...walk away. He felt like a coward for running, but he was also unable to remain in that spot any longer. Adolin itched to move, to drink, to laugh, to see anything but Bridgeboy’s busted up face. Storms, it was late anyway. People would be looking for him soon. 

It took every remaining scrap of composure not to break into a sprint as he made his exit. Adolin forced himself to walk calmly back down the dark corridor, listening for sounds of Kaladin following that never materialized. 

******

Kaladin could sense Syl itching to be summoned as a weapon, which was both unusual for her and not at all his desire. If Adolin had wanted a scuffle, more blows would have already come, but Adolin had simply walked away after landing the punch, back to the entrance and into the dark corridor. 

“Kaladin, go get him!” Syl urged, flying frantically back and forth. “You can’t just let him do that!”

“I don’t want to, Syl,” Kaladin winced, sinking to the ground.The pain behind his eye pulsed in time with his heart, and blood spilled from his nose across his lips and teeth. 

“Hey Syl,” Kaladin called out quietly, “think you could still find all the spheres that fell down there?”

“Of course I can, Kaladin,” Syl replied, sounding annoyed. “Are you sure you want to do that right now though? You could probably still catch up -“

“I’m sure, Syl. Come on, let’s go.”

Kaladin rose, grateful to find a handkerchief in his pocket. He wiped his nose and mouth as best as he could, opting not to heal himself for now. It felt wrong for some reason.

Walking to the ledge, Kaladin pulled in the Stormlight from the spheres Adolin had left behind and stepped off the balcony into the night. 


	2. The Tipsy Cousin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shallan and her crew hit the Tipsy Cousin, Adolin winds his way out of the tunnels, Kaladin goes on a sphere hunt.

Adolin’s Blade appeared after ten heartbeats. He held it awkwardly in his off hand, turning it around corners ahead of himself in the narrow passageway. The soft glow of the Blade illuminated the chalk markings that would lead him out of the darkness. 

His right arm ached at his side, hand throbbing. 

“It didn’t feel as good as I wanted it to,” Adolin admitted to his Blade. “My form was good and everything, it just wasn’t…”

Wasn’t what? Satisfying to punch someone unprovoked, then walk away? Of course that wasn’t satisfying! That was a terrible thing to do, even to someone who just called you a fool for being angry that your betrothed was making out with him. 

Come to think of it though, calling a man a fool when you’ve been making out with his betrothed was kind of terrible, too.

Adolin let out a groan of frustration that echoed in the corridor. His own voice sounded younger and more petulant than he expected, like a child who’d just been told to put away his toys. Storms, if he couldn’t even take himself seriously, who could?

“Why did they have to do that?” Adolin whined to his Blade, fully indulging in the tantrum. “I was ready - storming READY - to be a supportive Vorin husband, home with the kids or whatever. I would be a great dad! I would be GOOD at that!”

He still wanted that. He still wanted it with Shallan. Did she still want it with him? What did bridgeboy mean about the thing between him and Shallan being different, that somehow they could do both? Adolin’s heart jumped in his chest again, the same way it had on the balcony next to Kaladin, and he shoved it back down. That feeling was too confusing, too big to look at anymore. Not now.

Adolin kept walking. The Blade in his outstretched hand dictated a slower pace than he wanted, and he stumbled over his feet a few times, impatient to be out, to be home, to put his friendly mask back on and forget the last few hours. An indifferent bustle of bodies greeted him as he stepped onto the streets of Little Herdaz, and he couldn’t have been more relieved. 

******

Shallan felt the itch to become Veil as they approached the Tipsy Cousin. Bright and smoky, a curved bar of soulcast brass took up the back half the space, the rest of which was dotted with small tables. It was raucously loud, but much nicer and cleaner than the taverns Veil usually stalked. Shallan noticed she wasn’t the only lighteyed woman present, and it made her feel a bit more comfortable out of disguise. 

Yoya called out to the bartender in her distinctive staccato way, and soon the three of them were balancing on a trio of stools clustered at the back corner of the bar. 

This time Yoya made the introductions, and Shallan couldn’t tell if she was more surprised by the proprietress’ age - she couldn’t have been more than a few years Shallan’s senior - or by the fact that she was both lighteyed  _ and  _ Herdazian. Laia Telin (she had given her full name) had the golden eyes and long limbs of an Alethi lighteyes, but her short nails were hard and dark, and her deep brown hair fell in exuberant curls around her shoulders. Laia’s wry grin hinted at both vicious humor and easy hospitality, and she was also possibly the most beautiful woman Shallan had ever seen.

“Hey Shallan,” Palona nudged Shallan with her shoulder, “You ok?” Shallan realized too late that she was staring at the woman with her mouth open. 

“Poor thing is having a bad day,” Yoya said apologetically to Laia, then added quietly, “Boy troubles, you know.”

“I don’t really,” Laia gave an amused chuckle that reminded Shallan of a happy chicken, “but I’m sorry to hear that, Brightness. I truly am.” Laia gave Shallan a sincere smile, then turned to the group. “What are we drinking?”

******

“Over here, Kaladin,” Syl beckoned from a dark place a few feet off. 

Kaladin pocketed the spheres she’d just helped him locate, following the direction of her voice just as much as her faint glow ahead. It was comforting how he could always orient himself to Syl, like the needle of a compass. 

“Only a few more left, I think,” Syl reassured Kaladin. A few of the spheres here were shattered, either from the impact of falling or from Adolin’s Blade. Kaladin had already found one or two spheres sliced neatly down the middle, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the control required to split something so small midair. He stored those ones in a different pocket.

The activity of retrieving all the spheres was calming, almost like a kata. Walk, reach down, pick up sphere, put in pocket. Repeat. Lit only by the cool glow of Nomon, the descending terraces on this abandoned corner of Urithiru seemed colorless, frozen in time. Kaladin wondered how long it would have been before someone found the spheres on their own.

Kaladin used a little Stormlight to stop his nose from bleeding, but otherwise allowed the damage to his face to remain unhealed. He reasoned with himself that he should conserve the Stormlight to make sure he didn’t end up stuck on some far-flung echelon of the city, unable to fly back, but Kaladin found he also  _ wanted  _ to wear the black eye and broken nose for a bit. 

The pain served as a continuous reminder that, though his early meetings with Shallan had been secret, Adolin had always been a part of the entanglement, whether they wanted it or not. In a way, the blow from Adolin was initiated the moment Kaladin kissed Shallan that first glorious time -- it just took a few days to truly connect.

Kaladin knew what it felt like to land the punch he’d received, and so he knew Adolin was absolutely also hurting right now, but with no Stormlight to heal himself. It was a weird show of solidarity, but it made Kaladin want to just...have the pain. For a bit. 

After all, if he was going to love Shallan, and Shallan loved Adolin, then he was going to have to love Adolin, too, in some way or another.

Spheres gathered, Kaladin hopped off the ledge to another below it, Syl guiding the way as a ribbon of light. 


	3. Good Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The owner of the Tipsy Cousin is very beautiful.

It felt indescribably good to be out in the evening streets. Adolin inhaled the mixture of cooking food, kicked-up dust and sweat in the air, feeling like he hadn’t taken a real breath in hours. It seemed like an eternity since he’d taken bridgeboy to the balcony, but he probably only had an hour or two to account for, if pressed. Though it would have been wiser to go to Renarin immediately and have the hand seen to, that path came with the price of giving explanations. At this moment, Adolin preferred to keep the swollen knuckles. 

Adolin kept to the busiest pathways, trying not to hold his arm strangely. Where to go, though? The Plate and Blade would be too quiet at this hour, and he was too likely to run into Bridge 4 at the Five Finger Discount. He couldn’t hope for a place where he wouldn’t be recognized, just someplace he wouldn’t be bothered. And — Adolin cursed out loud — someplace they’d take credit without any fuss. He’d left all his spheres back on the balcony, of course. 

That left only two places.

******

After much research, Shallan concluded that good wine was good.

She announced this to her compatriots at the bar, who nodded gravely, then burst into giggles.

This was the first thing Shallan had contributed to the discussion in a while, as Palona and Yoya slipped into Herdazian the more the night wore on. Shallan felt grateful for an excuse not to follow the conversation, and though she had no idea what was being said, it still felt good to laugh when they laughed. 

The Tipsy Cousin was clearly the place you went to impress your friends, or perhaps someone you wished to be more than friends with. Most of the small tables contained pairs of people gazing at one another over their drinks, while larger groups stood in clusters, shouting to be heard over the din. There were notably few uniforms present, and many people seemed to be dressed in their best clothes. Laia had clearly cultivated the atmosphere of a special occasion here, and her patrons followed suit. Of course, her wine was also very good. 

As if by magic, another bottle of auburn was being emptied into their glasses, cradled in the gloved safehand of Laia herself. She made a comment in Herdazian that made the other two women crack up, and gave a wink to Shallan before tending to the rest of her patrons. Palona started explaining the joke to Shallan after the fact, but they both recognized that it wasn’t worth the trouble and toasted instead.

Without much else to do, Shallan spent most of the evening staring at Laia Telin. She wore a burgundy havah, simple in its design but expert in its tailoring, along with a matching glove of fine wool on her safehand. The hue of her dress brought out the deep warmth of her skin tone and the flickering gold in her eyes, and Shallan eventually noticed she wasn’t the only one staring. Big men blushed when she took their orders, and stoic lighteyed women got suddenly shy under her gaze. Shallan started to understand that maybe Laia was just as much of a destination as the establishment she ran. 

Now and then, Shallan’s thoughts would drift back to Kaladin, who might be waiting for her on their balcony right this moment, or to Adolin, who might be telling his whole family the betrothal was off. But she couldn’t do anything about what Adolin decided, and she felt wrong sneaking away to see Kaladin after coming clean to Adolin. And if she did either of those things, she’d have to excuse herself from Palona and Yoya first, and she couldn’t come up with any plausible reasons to do that, either. 

And if she excused herself from Palona and Yoya, she would have to leave the presence of Laia Telin and her very good wine.

So Shallan stayed, and she wished she could stay forever.


	4. The Limping Chull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adolin greets a friend, Syl has some feelings about Adolin's behavior.

“Adolino Kholino! Come here, you handsome man!”

Adolin leaned over the bar to embrace the owner of the Limping Chull, wincing as he raised his arm to pat Dodan on the back. He decided not to try the Tipsy Cousin across the street, which was even busier than usual. The Limping Chull was darker, quieter, and less inviting than its neighbor, making it a better place to be alone. Plus, it had Dodan. 

It was hard not to smile around the Limping Chull’s proprietor. Barrel-chested and balding, he had been drafted to Aladar’s army and sent to the Shattered Plains when the war started. After catching an arrow in the knee, Dodan took a position under the quartermaster until he’d raised enough money to open the bar, which he always said was named after himself.

Dodan’s family - he was married to a woman named Mina and had two children - had arrived at the Shattered Plains after the Oathgate was activated. It took them a frustratingly long time to find each other in all the uncertainty of settling the new city, but once they were reunited, Adolin saw a change in the man immediately.

Where once Dodan had been politely curt and unobtrusive in his own establishment, he was now warm and paternal to everyone, as if reuniting with his own family had also made him everyone else’s dad. Adolin was reminded of the way a frillbloom pushed itself open when the rain came, revealing all the color that had existed inside it the whole time. Every time he thought of the Dodan he’d known before, it amazed him that this new person had been waiting inside all the while. 

“I’d like to see the other guy,” Dodan remarked as he caught sight of Adolin’s hand. Adolin hadn’t really bothered to look at it until now, but one of his knuckles had split, a wide, red bruise beginning to form across the bones. Adolin felt the other man take a quick stock of the rest of him, noting that he was otherwise uninjured and his clothes were clean. He gave Adolin a questioning look, but didn’t say anything. 

Adolin went to run a hand across his face and through his hair, but the motion felt strange with his left hand. With a sigh that came out too close to a sob, all he could eventually manage was, “Long day.”

Without asking, Dodan reached into a cabinet and pulled out a decanter wrapped in leather. In the dim lamplight of the bar, Adolin could make out the blue tint of the wine as it was poured into a wooden cup.

“You wanna hear a story, ‘Lino?” 

Dodan tried a smile out on Adolin, and Adolin was relieved he could return it.

“Always, Dodan, always.”

******

Having rescued the last of the spheres from below, Kaladin found himself sitting on the ledge of the balcony. His feet dangled into nothingness, and the air was still and quiet. 

“I don’t like the way Adolin treated you tonight, Kaladin.”

Syl’s remark came out clearly and slow, like she had been carefully considering what to say.

“And not just because he punched you.”

Up until this moment, Syl had mostly left Kaladin to his own thoughts, only speaking to point out where he should look or go next in their hunt for the spheres. He was a little embarrassed not to have considered that she might have something on her own mind, too.

Kaladin’s eye had swollen nearly shut and his nose throbbed from the probing he’d given it to see how bad the fracture was. The muscles of his neck were so stiff it was hard to turn his head.

“I didn’t like it either, Syl,” Kaladin finally conceded. His voice came out strange through the broken nose, both pinched and thick. 

“But Shallan and I betrayed his trust. I know - “ he continued before Syl could interrupt, “I know they’re not fully betrothed technically, that there’s no oath, but there’s no oath between me and Shallan either, and that’s pretty real. Right?”

“But Kaladin,” Syl persisted, “if he was mad at you, he could have just been mad at you. He could have just confronted you, or stopped talking to you, or challenged you to a duel or something. But instead it was like he was...playing with you. And the way he was holding his Blade -” Syl shuddered. Kaladin didn’t even know she could do that. 

“I didn’t like it, Kaladin.” 

Kaladin thought back to all Adolin’s strange behavior over the last few hours. The abrupt end to the spar, the endless walk to the balcony, the summoning his Blade just to... _ hold  _ it? 

The punch Kaladin could understand. The shouting too, even the times he’d gone frighteningly quiet. Those were all ways you might expect a man to react under the circumstances. 

It was the hesitations that were confusing, the actions that suggested violence but never led there, the laughs that came out quick and mangled. Kaladin could see why Syl read that behavior as manipulative, but maybe it was something less sinister than that. 

“I don’t know, Syl,” Kaladin finally responded. 

“Your face looks terrible,” Syl changed the subject. “Are you finally gonna heal it? It would hurt just to look at you if I had a real body.” As if to emphasize the point, she transformed into a windspren, lapping the balcony a few times. 

Kaladin checked his Stormlight. He had enough to fly back to barracks, where he could heal up completely. Or, he could use the Stormlight to heal himself now. It would just be a long walk home.

That was probably better. Kaladin closed his eyes as Stormlight eased the swelling in his eye and re-knit the cartilage in his nose. He gently tilted his head, and found no tenderness in his neck. Storms, it felt good to look out of both eyes again.

“Let’s go,” Kaladin told Syl. He swung his legs around the ledge and jumped back onto the balcony.

“But isn’t Shallan coming?” Syl asked, reappearing as a young woman. “Isn’t this usually when you meet? What if you miss her?”

“I don’t think she’s coming tonight, Syl,” Kaladin responded.

“You’re telling me you got a black eye so you could  _ not  _ meet her tonight?” Syl raised an eyebrow at him. “That makes no sense.” 

“I guess not, Syl,” Kaladin sighed. “Can you help me get through those tunnels? I’ve never left that way before.”


	5. Punch a Chull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adolin gets a story from a bartender, Kaladin starts the long walk home.

“One time I broke my hand on my chull. Do you know this one? Hold on,” Dodan interrupted himself as one of the tables gestured for another round. A young soldier in Aladar’s colors retrieved the drinks, ferrying them back to the table as they were poured. 

Adolin sat with his drink as Dodan asked after the quartermaster, sending regards to his old boss. The Limping Chull was out of the way for this group, but Adolin noticed that they got twice as many beers as they paid in rations. Adolin took a sip of his wine, which stung pleasantly as he swallowed. 

“So anyway, ‘Lino,” Dodan continued, returning to Adolin’s spot at the bar, “I was a young man. Little Rodan wasn’t even born yet, and Mina and I were just married, very happy, very poor, you know. We have our one chull, we have our one room on the leeward side of a hill, everything is good, right? 

So one day the local lighteyes comes through to survey his lands, or get taxes or I don’t know, something like that, and he comes with his new wife. 

“They come together, and I see this look on Mina’s face, like nothing I ever saw before. We’re from a small village, we don’t see a lot, you know? Like it doesn’t take a lot to surprise us at this time. And I look at Mina’s face, and then I look at what she’s looking at. And it’s this guy’s wife! She’s wearing this unbelievable getup, my friend, like you wouldn’t believe it. Rubies, amethysts, emeralds, all on her dress and in her hair, just glowing their little hearts out like it’s the middle of a highstorm. 

“Now you know Mina, you know she’s maybe the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your life, right? Right. So I look at Mina, and she’s looking at this woman, and I can see her imagination in that moment, Lino. I can see it, Mina all dressed up like that, with gems in her hair and a dress all covered in Stormlight like that. 

“Anyway, the lighteyes go home, and Mina’s just quiet. She knows we’re never gonna have clothes like that or anything, and she’s too proud to tell me she wants that, and she’s sad because we’re never gonna have it. We’re fifth nahn, that’s crazy thoughts. But I can tell that she thinks them, and I can tell that she wishes for it but she’ll never ever say it to me.

“Lino, I got so mad. I got so mad at how unfair that is, that someone so beautiful and perfect that I love more than breathing could never have something she wants so badly like that. No no, that I couldn’t  _ give _ it to her. I never felt so helpless in my whole life. And I wasn’t mad at anyone really, just mad at  _ things _ the way they are, that I couldn’t change them for her.

“So I went outside and I punched my chull. I punched him so hard I broke my hand. He was fine, by the way, just kept eating. But I only had one good hand until the end of the next Weeping.”

Dodan looked at Adolin with dead seriousness.

“You punch a chull, Lino?”

In a flash, the hard look melted into a broad smile that was impossible not to reciprocate. 

“Maybe, depending on who you talk to, Dodan.” Adolin replied truthfully, flexing his fingers. “I don’t think I broke anything, at least.”

“My friend, I know that hand,” Dodan nodded towards Adolin’s fingers as they opened and closed. “And I have never seen that hand on a man who was not in love. But back then I told everyone I fell on my fist and nobody questioned it, so I will do you the same courtesy.”

******

Kaladin and Syl kept a companionable silence as they made their way through the tunnel. Kaladin remembered how the morning had started, leaping off the very top of Urithiru while the morning sun bathed him and Shallan in golden light. He’d felt invincible, filled beyond capacity with affection.

And now, mere hours later, he was trudging through the dark bowels of the city alone. Well, not entirely alone.

“You know why I like Shallan, right?” Syl said, almost to herself. She was in the form of a young woman, drifting lazily beside him.

“Not exactly,” Kaladin admitted. 

“It’s not because of anything about her, Kaladin,” she turned to glance at him before continuing her aimless trajectory. 

“It’s because of who _ you _ are with her. Something blooms in you when you’re around her, Kaladin. And I really like seeing that part of you come out. If anything else could do that - or any _ one _ , I would like them too.”

Syl fell silent, returning to his shoulder. 

“Plus it’s funny how mad you get when she teases you,” she added matter-of-factly.

There wasn’t anything to say in response to that, so Kaladin kept walking. 


	6. Jorr and Inzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Shallan is super drunk

Shallan drew, nestled in the nook where the curved bar met the Tipsy Cousin’s rear wall. At some point she’d pulled out her sketchbook and a pencil from her safehand pouch, though she honestly couldn’t remember doing it. It wasn’t clear how long they had been sitting at the Tipsy Cousin or how many glasses of auburn she’d had, but Shallan was so comfortable on her perch that she didn’t care. Sensing the lies like the aroma of good cooking, Pattern had sweetly asked permission to go listening to the conversations around the room. Now and then he would return to Shallan’s skirt, humming happily before rippling off her lap to another corner of the tavern. 

Though Palona and Yoya had long since stopped trying to involve her in the conversation, Palona would throw a protective glance back at Shallan from time to time, coupled with an affectionate pat on the knee or the shoulder. It made Shallan feel cared for and safe.

“You’re quite the artist, brightness,” a soft voice inserted itself into Shallan’s reverie.

Shallan looked up from her sketchbook to see Laia inspecting her drawing, which was of two handsome young men snuggled close at a nearby table. From this angle, Shallan could see the fans of Laia’s lashes and catch the scent of her perfume, which smelled expensive and rare.

“May I?” Laia reached for the sketchbook, glancing up at Shallan for permission. 

The noise in the room was almost deafening, but Laia’s voice and her presence were so perfectly audible, perfectly intimate, it could have been magic. Shallan nodded. Somehow, she hadn’t taken a single Memory of the woman and hastily corrected the error. 

A broad smile developed on Laia’s face as she recognized who was depicted. 

“Hey! Jorr! Inzo! Come over here!” 

Laia’s shout broke the hushed spell as the two men in question looked up, then obediently pushed their way through to the bar. Shallan’s vision swam ever so slightly as she watched them approach. How much  _ had  _ she had to drink?

“Jorr, Inzo, this is my friend Shallan. Shallan, this is Jorr and Inzo.” 

Jorr was the shorter of the two darkeyed men, wearing a jacket dyed deep green over a close-fitting shirt, collar starched smartly. He kept his hair and beard short, and bushy eyebrows framed large brown eyes. Inzo was dressed in a garnet-colored silk shirt that billowed over his lanky form, thick dark hair falling across his forehead. His smooth chin was set seriously in an angular face, and he seemed a little annoyed at having his evening interrupted.

Shallan smiled politely, and then realized the two men were caught off guard at meeting a Knight Radiant in this tavern. They both murmured “Brightness” to her deferentially, refusing to make eye contact. 

Laia laughed her chicken chuckle once again. “Don’t be silly. She’s not going to bite. I just wanted to show you what she drew.” She turned Shallan’s sketchbook to them.

It was pure joy watching the two men’s faces as they saw how they were depicted in the drawing. They commented enthusiastically on the way Shallan had drawn the lamplight on Jorr’s cheekbones, or how Inzo always  _ did  _ cross his ankles just like that. Inzo smiled sheepishly when Jorr assured him that, yes, he really was that handsome, and the way he self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair reminded Shallan so much of Adolin that it felt like a needle through her breastbone.

After that, it was bad.

Shallan went to take the book back so that she could lacquer the page and give it to the men as a gift, but she elbowed her wine glass in the process, accidentally spilling it back onto Laia. The commotion embarrassed the couple, who politely declined the sketch and hurried back to their table. 

Shallan apologized profusely to Laia, who laughed good naturedly and refilled her glass, which Shallan promptly spilled again in her efforts to lacquer the page anyway, just in case the two decided to come back. This was enough to finally get Palona and Yoya’s attention, and the look that crossed the two women’s faces was enough to tell Shallan that it was probably time to go home.

******

“How did you keep going,” Adolin concentrated hard on his hand, understanding that eye contact would make the question unspeakable, “knowing you could never give her something she wanted so much?”

Dodan laughed. He laughed the way parents laugh when their children panic over something small, both condescending and loving in the wisdom of their age. Adolin expected to be offended by that laugh, but it was nice for someone to trivialize this hurt, make it seem like a matter of course, just something to get through.

As if to soften the reaction, Dodan shifted his gaze out the window, observing the swarm around the Tipsy Cousin. 

“Lino, she’s my  _ wife _ ,” Dodan explained. “She loved me before she saw some sparkles on a brightlady, and she loved me after. I didn’t make anything better when I punched Gavilar - that was my chull’s name - I just made more work for Mina until my storming hand healed. And the whole time I sat around the house stirring lavis porridge while she plowed and carried water I thought about all the beautiful things I could have been doing for her with two good hands. And when I got better, I did some of them.”

Dodan ended the statement with a meaningful glance at Adolin. 

“Dodan,” Adolin posed, avoiding whatever lesson the story was supposed to impart, “did you really name your chull —“ 

“Gavilar, yeah. He was so strong! Together we conquered my plot of land!”

A real laugh welled up in Adolin’s chest, tickling like the beginning of a sneeze. Adolin was desperate for that laugh, craving it, but he was terrified of what might come crumbling down in its wake. 

Instead, he took a deep, careful swallow of wine, then said calmly, “That’s hilarious, Dodan.”

“Hey, ah, did you know your girl was across the street?” Dodan’s question came out half-suspicious, as if Adolin may have actually been staking out the Tipsy Cousin this whole time.

“What? No! She is?” Adolin pushed himself to his feet, which both knocked his barstool over and sent stabbing pain through his hand. The pain and the clang of the stool hitting the floor disoriented him for a moment, and Adolin realized Aladar’s men were watching him. So much for keeping a low profile.

“Yeah, Lino,” Dodan replied, choosing to ignore the commotion, “she’s leaving with two girlfriends right now. They all look pretty toasted.”

Shallan didn’t  _ have _ girlfriends. What was going on?

“I--” Adolin tripped over himself heading to the door. “I don’t have any--” he pushed a hand into his pocket by way of explanation, shoving the door open with his backside.

“Go, go,” Dodan shooed Adolin out the door with one hand. “Next time. Go, go.”


	7. You're Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adolin and Shallan reunite. Adolin makes a confession of his own.

The air outside felt deliciously cool as Shallan stepped out of the Tipsy Cousin, flanked by Palona and Yoya. Walking had become oddly difficult, so she was grateful for the supportive arms linked through hers. Pattern hadn’t come out with them, but he was enjoying the atmosphere of the bar so much it felt mean to call him back.

As they turned up the street, a body flung itself out of the tavern across the street, a tall man in a Kholin uniform. Lamplight from the taverns caught his golden hair and.. oh storms ADOLIN

“You’re HERE!” Shallan wriggled out of Palona and Yoya’s grip and sprinted to Adolin, nearly toppling him with her embrace.

“I was so worried you were going to call off the betrothal and I was so scared when you summoned your Blade and I did a horrible job of explaining what happened and oh storms I’m so happy to see you I never want to leave you again--”

Shallan melted in the warmth of Adolin’s embrace as he tenderly wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. It was the most right feeling she had ever felt in her whole life.

******

Adolin tumbled onto the street, which drew eyes from some of the revelers hovering outside the Cousin. Self-consciously, he straightened, trying to act inconspicuous. 

“You’re here!” Shallan’s voice was nearly a squeal as she ran to him. Before Adolin had even started searching for her, her arms were wrapped tight around his neck, her voice muffled as she buried her face in his jacket. She was saying something, but Adolin had no idea what. 

Adolin glanced in the direction Shallan had pounced from, and saw Palona standing with her arm around another woman he didn’t know. They were both smiling and waving at him.

“We’re going home,” Palona called, “are you coming?”

Adolin was overwhelmed by the Shallan that assailed him - the smell of her hair, the heat of her body embracing him, the vibration of her voice as she mumbled into his chest.

He looked up dumbly at the two women. There should have been an easy answer to whatever their question was, but as he gingerly wrapped both arms around Shallan, Adolin honestly could not think of anything except the reality of her here, in his arms, loving him. 

Palona and her friend consulted briefly in Herdazian, then walked over to where Adolin was standing, only weaving slightly. 

“Fancy meeting you here, Adolin,” Palona gave Adolin a lazy smile, leaning on her friend for support. “This is my friend, Yoya.” 

The other woman smiled and crossed her well-muscled arms. Storms, was she trying to intimidate him?

“We’ve been having the most wonderful time tonight, haven’t we Shallan?” Palona continued. 

Shallan’s face peeked up from under Adolin’s chin, her eyes bleary and bloodshot. 

“Yeah,” she agreed with a slack grin. 

“And we’re sure you two would love some quality time together, but I think you’ll agree that the best thing would be for you to come visit in the morning, Adolin.”

Palona delivered the directive to Adolin with an unblinking stare. Shallan had clearly had too much to drink, and the woman was right to be protective. Though it was agonizing in more ways than one, Adolin loosened his grip on Shallan and eased her arms from off his neck. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” Adolin agreed. “Shallan, I’ll come see you in the morning, OK?”

“Why?” Shallan furrowed her brow, not understanding. 

The friend Yoya laughed, a single short exclamation. 

“Shallan, we had a lot of wine at Laia’s,” Palona explained, speaking with admirable clarity. “We would be bad grownups if we left you with a boy in this state, even if he is your betrothed.”

“Oh. Oh!” Shallan concentrated for a second. In a blink, the goofy drowsiness left her face and she stood a little straighter. She gave a little sigh, as if waking up from a refreshing nap. Damnation, was there anything Stormlight couldn’t fix? 

“How about now?” Shallan asked sweetly. “May I please escort my betrothed” - Shallan hooked her arm through Adolin’s at this - “back to his quarters?” 

“No,” Palona countered, and Shallan only pouted. Storms, Adolin had never seen Shallan  _ let  _ someone tell her what to do before. “But I would be happy to invite the young brightlord back to our home, where we may continue the festivities.” 

Palona put on an exaggerated air, as if she were Ialai Sadeas holding court at a party. 

“Right this way, my very esteemed guests.”

Palona linked arms with Yoya once more, leading the way back to Sebarial’s. 

******

The feeling of Adolin’s arm linked with hers was better than wine - she turned and nuzzled her face into his shoulder, pressing into the firm muscle under the roughness of his coat. Adolin turned his face, burying his nose in her hair as they walked.

“I would never hurt you, Shallan,” he murmured, breath warm and humid on her cheek. 

“I swear it. I’m so sorry about what happened before.” 

Shallan turned her eyes upward and saw the most lost-looking expression on Adolin’s face. His brow was knit over those perfect blue eyes, caught between fear and concern. It made Shallan feel powerful, but not in a way that was pleasant. 

“This is pretty impressive, naca,” Yoya called back to Shallan. She was flipping through Shallan’s sketchbook as they walked. “I should commission you to do a portrait of Ganchita’s, for prosperity.”

“Posterity, Yoy,” Palona corrected, too loudly. 

“Both,” Yoya retorted. 

It wasn’t a very subtle reminder that they had chaperones, but it was enough to cause Adolin to straighten and face forward, throwing her a smile that was meant to be encouraging. He reached his arm up, as if about to squeeze her hand, then hastily straightened it back down to his side. 

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Shallan asked, trying to peek around his body for a look.

Adolin looked extremely guilty, and muttered something Shallan couldn’t hear.

“What?” Shallan demanded.

“I know, it was so stupid,” Adolin berated himself.

“No, I didn’t hear you,” Shallan clarified. “What happened to your arm?”

You would have thought he had confessed to eating someone else’s wedding cake. Adolin lowered his eyes sheepishly, tilting his chin toward Shallan.

“I punched Kaladin,” he admitted through the corner of his mouth.”In the face.”


	8. Really Interesting Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolution is so tricky, especially with someone you need like air.

Shallan’s eyes went wide.

“Oh,” she replied, brow knitting together for a moment. “Well,” she reasoned, “he can -”

“Yeah, exactly,” Adolin interrupted. “So he should be fine by now.”

“Right,” Shallan agreed, looking distracted. All of a sudden she looked back at the Limping Chull, “Was he...?”

“No, no, it was earlier,” Adolin emphasized, “on the balcony.”

Adolin watched for Shallan’s reaction as he uttered the last word. She turned to him like she’d seen a ghost.

“The where? You…?”

Adolin nodded. “It’s kind of a long story, but yeah. I don’t know, he might still be there.”

“Oh,” Shallan replied.

They walked for a few more minutes in silence as Yoya and Palona kept up their dialogue a few paces ahead. Shallan kept her arm in his as they walked, but she didn’t hide the fact that her mind was elsewhere.

Though he still regretted throwing that punch, Adolin was able to remember that his anger was justified, both at Kaladin and the woman whose nearness was like a salve on his heart. It wasn’t fair that Shallan felt like the solution to the problem she herself had caused, but life wasn’t fair, either.

Adolin wondered if this was what forgiveness felt like. If so, it was unpleasant.

As they strolled past the secret pathway to the balcony, Adolin found himself looking around surreptitiously, as if bridgeboy would come bursting out at just that moment. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t, he could storming fly. Why was that so disappointing?

“You know,” Adolin found himself saying conversationally, “bridgeboy told me a lot of things I didn’t know today, really interesting things. And I’m realizing that we - you and me, that is - might have never talked about some of it before.”

“Is that so?” Shallan responded with remarkable control. They might have been discussing what to have for breakfast, the exchange was so bland.

“That’s right,” Adolin responded matter-of-factly. “For one thing, he told me he loves you.”

Shallan’s arm stiffened for a moment.

“I see,” Shallan replied, her voice resonating in a way he wasn’t familiar with.

“He also told me,” Adolin continued, “that I love you.” Shallan’s eyes darted up to him, as if unsure where he was headed.

“Which is interesting, now that I think about it, because I don’t recall every saying that to you before.”

He squinted thoughtfully in a show of recollection. Storms, it was cruel toying with Shallan this way. It didn’t even feel good to do, but Adolin couldn’t stop himself. Shallan seemed about to argue, but had trouble finding words.

“Of course I do, storms do I love you, Shallan,” he blurted. He could feel Shallan relax beside him.

“I don’t know why I never said it before. I kept getting stuck on the betrothal, the practicalities. Like, if I’m already going to marry you then of course I love you, right? But when I heard him say it, that I love you, it sounded like such an obvious thing to say. And...it kind of messed with me that maybe bridgeboy figured that out before I did.”

Adolin found himself going down on one knee. He understood it was a dramatic move, but it was as if his body wouldn’t let him take another step before he did this. Palona and Yoya continued down the road, not noticing.

Shallan stopped, startled. She took a small glance at the two women as they moved down the road, then glanced quickly around them. Storms, she was still afraid of him.

_Prove to her you’re not scary. You’re _not_ scary._

Adolin took her hand in his good one, which was a little awkward, but then so was everything else.

******

That uncomfortable feeling of power nagged at Shallan again as Adolin knelt in front of her.

“I love you, Shallan Davar,” he declared, eyes brimming with sincerity. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”

Shallan knew what she was supposed to say next. The words would be true if she said them, but Shallan also felt they would close a door that needed to stay open a bit longer. If she said “I love you” now, it might communicate to Adolin that the chapter with Kaladin was closed, and it wasn’t anywhere near closed. Storms, the fact that she was even _thinking_ about Kaladin right now was a pretty clear indication of that.

So instead she said nothing.

Adolin shifted uncomfortably, not rising.

“He said you love me,” Adolin repeated, searching Shallan’s eyes. “He said we love each other. Why would he say that if it wasn’t true?”

_Storming Say Something_, Radiant commanded. _Now_.

Shallan tried to pull in Stormlight, but she’d burned it all to sober up. Why was this so hard?

_Shallan!_

“It is true,” she finally forced out, taking Adolin by the shoulders and guiding him back up to standing. Pattern returned, announcing his presence with a quiet hum.

“It is true,” Shallan repeated, “but a lot of other things are true too. I...can we talk more about this? It seems like there’s a lot we need to catch each other up on--”

Before Shallan fully realized what was happening, Adolin’s fingers curled around the back of her neck, drawing her into a gentle kiss. Shallan drew several breaths through her nose as they stood with their lips connected, frozen in this strange uncertain moment. In that stillness, Adolin’s thumb slid across her skin, tucking itself tenderly behind her ear. It was such a small thing, but it communicated worlds of affection.

That kiss could have lasted full minutes, hours even. It was questions and answers, assurances and doubts. And it felt storming amazing.

******  
The sounds of nighttime in Little Herdaz started seeping into the silence that filled the passageway. It was getting late, which gave Kaladin the hope that he could make it back to barracks largely unnoticed. Syl hovered at his shoulder as Kaladin jammed his hands into his pockets and emerged from behind the row of shops, walking briskly towards home.

Kaladin stopped in his tracks when, a few dozen yards ahead, he saw Shallan and Adolin kissing. As perfectly still and beautiful as a painting.

The lamps lit on the street gave their hair and clothes a gentle golden halo, and thankfully both their eyes were closed. It looked like what you would see if someone told you to imagine a prince and a princess kissing, which Kaladin supposed made a good deal of sense, all things considered. Involuntarily his mind returned to the thought of him and Shallan floating midair on the balcony, glowing with Stormlight. He wondered if it looked anywhere as lovely as this.

It was a few seconds before Kaladin decided he needed deeply not to be seen by either Adolin or Shallan, and so he ducked behind a stall, waited a minute, and started off walking in the opposite direction. His skin tingled with the vain hope that they would see him anyway, though of course they didn’t.

When Kaladin got home, he found out that Teft had gone missing. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's part 6! All of the tavern names were the creations of internet strangers, and as a result the Tipsy Cousin and the Limping Chull got WAY more screen time and two OCs of whom I am now extremely fond. 
> 
> I fully recognize that there has been not remotely enough making out for several chapters now and swear to Domi I am doing my best on that front. Stay tuned, and thanks as always for dropping a note or a kudo!
> 
> thrilled to talk SA any time [here](https://sheisrysn.tumblr.com/)


	9. Hey Reader!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've Moved!

Heya! If you have enjoyed this work in any of its sections, you can now read the whole thing in one place: [Here's a link to that place.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041639/)

There’s some minor tweaks from the originally published chapters, but you’ve basically got the gist if you’ve read everything. Thanks for reading, commenting, and kudoing, and generally being a delightful fandom to be a part of!

<3

s_i_r


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